


Firelight

by Rosie_Rues



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-16
Updated: 2010-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-12 17:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted over at <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/12301.html?thread=10575117#t10575117">kinkme_merlin</a> for this prompt: <i>They're at the borders in the forest.<br/>It's very cold, they're really tired and decide to camp for the night. The knights order Merlin to keep the fire on, so that they are capable to see any enemy approach and possibly keep them warm. Eventually Merlin falls asleep and Arthur, not wanting him to be outside alone continue his job, watching over Merlin in the while.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Firelight

The crackle of the fire was the loudest sound in the chill of the night. Above them, the sky was clear, stars blazing in the darkness, and the frost was biting down. It was too early in the year for snow, but the earth was like steel beneath Merlin's feet, so cold he could feel it through the thin soles of his shoes. The wood he had piled up before dusk was already glittering and he was getting quite proficient at throwing it into the fire really fast, so the frost didn't have time to melt all over his bare fingers.

He'd even started developing a scoring system - one point for a hit on the edge of the fire, two for one in the middle, and points deducted for any consequent collapses or flares noisy enough to make one of the knights stir in their sleep. Right now, he had reached a grand total of minus three, but he was sure he would improve with practice.

Behind him, Gareth muttered something, and Merlin turned round in time to see the young knight roll against his brother's back, shoving his face against Gawain's neck. Gawain snored, but didn't seem to notice, and Merlin barely held back a huff of disapproval. He didn't know what Arthur was thinking, letting Gareth come along on this one - the boy was the youngest of the knights and barely old enough to shave. Uther had only accepted him because his older brothers were almost as good as Arthur and wouldn't stay anywhere where the boy wasn't welcome too. Gareth, however, should still be back in Camelot, polishing someone's armour, not riding border patrols.

Surreptiously, Merlin glanced around at the other knights. He was fairly sure he was the only one awake, and a little spell to warm Gareth's blankets wouldn't hurt that much.

But Pellinore was stirring too, and Arthur's eyes were gleaming in the firelight. The reflected flames made them more gold than blue, and Merlin stared at him for a moment, lost in hopeless wishes.

"Build the bloody fire up, idiot," Arthur grumbled at him, breaking his daze. "It's getting cold."

"Sorry," Merlin said, shaking himself. "Fell asleep."

"Don't." Then Arthur was rolling over, presenting Merlin with an unedifying view of his back. And, while it was a very nice back, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen a thousand times before, so Merlin sighed and trudged over to the wood pile, being careful not to step on Bors, who had a bad habit of tackling anyone who woke him unexpectedly to the ground (which wouldn't have been so bad if it was mere rage, but the leg-humping was a bit much, however hilarious Arthur found it).

With the fire blazing again, he paused on the edge of the ridge to look out at the countryside beyond. The forest stretched above them, black and heavy under the moon, but the rest of the country lay ahead, the valleys and the dales shadowy in the silver moonlight. Merlin stuck his hands into his armpits and tried to pick out landmarks - the sharp shadows on the western horizon, a little duller than the sky, must be the White Mountains, and that lone light in the northwest was that tavern where they'd stopped on the way out, with the good roast duck, and there, of course, brighter than anywhere else, shone the lights of Camelot down in the valley below.

He was tired, not just from the long ride and the sleepless night, but from the knowledge that there would be no relief when they got back. In fact, it would be harder - no camaraderie of the road, and hundreds more suspicious eyes. Sometimes he thought he'd spend all his life watching and hiding and terrified after every tiny risk.

The stars were looking blurry now, so he pulled his cloak tighter and went back to perch on his log by the fire. Arthur had asked him to watch the fire and he would. He could take each hour at a time and stop worrying about the future. There was enough to worry about here and now.

The knights had dozed off again, though he thought Arthur might still be awake. He never slept well away from Camelot, and Merlin usually tried to bear that in mind when he got kicked awake or made to ride along with someone's underwear on his head.

The fire had matured to a maze of glowing arches and tunnels now, a little like Camelot. Perhaps it had a secret dragon too, or an evil wizard's tomb full of molten treasures, and dungeons for little spark-sorcerors to languish in. He blinked, and then went back to gazing into the vague hallways of the fire, letting his head list. What did they do with their wizards, if they were already burning? Maybe they froze them, or cast them out into the snow to fizzle and go out and then they-

He fell off his log.

It took him a moment to realise that the fire hadn't just turned itself sideways, and a moment more to notice that the grass beneath his feet was both cold and damp. Then a strong arm was hauling him up and an all-too-familiar voice snarling, "Can't you do anything right, Merlin?"

"Shouldn't think so," he managed. "Not when someone is determined to make me go without sleep."

"It's your job to go without sleep," Arthur pointed out, but he didn't move his arm, just dragged Merlin closer. A much warmer cloak than his settled over him with a swirl and Arthur muttered, "Just watch the fire, idiot."

 _I am_ , Merlin tried to say, but it came out as, "Uh-umm."

"I can't think why you believe you're entitled to sleep when I'm awake," Arthur grumbled, but his arm was warm and his hand cupped Merlin's shoulder with surprising gentleness. "Don't snore."

Merlin mumbled at him, in what he meant to be a mocking tone, and let his eyes fall shut.

A little later, he woke as Arthur moved him, settling him on the ground. Merlin watched through sleep-hazed eyes as Arthur crossed to the woodpile, dodging Bors and returning with an armful of logs. Crouching, he began to feed them into the fire, frowning intently. So close to the flames, he gleamed, and Merlin thought vaguely of some of the hangings in the halls of Camelot, where forgotten kings were stitched in gold thread, shining even as the cloth around them faded.

Then Arthur stiffened, staring into the fire in shock. Merlin followed his gaze, and winced. Oops.

The illusory halls and towers of the crumbling wood had taken more form now, showing a glowing, miniature Camelot in the heart of the fire. There was the throne room, banners flaring in its rafters, and the courtyard with tiny flame-children playing. There was a little knight, identifiably Lancelot, riding in, and he could see a small Gwen on the battlements. Of course, there was also a dragon coiled around the tower, blowing smoke rings over the towers, and two of horses being led out of the stables had wings, and the king on the glowing throne was not Uther, but Arthur, strong and smiling, with a tiny Merlin behind him.

Merlin quivered where he lay, waiting for Arthur to draw his sword and rouse the knights to search the woods for the sorceror. Instead, Arthur sighed heavily and reached out for another log, dropping it down heavily onto the illusion. Then he said, without turning around, "Go to sleep, Merlin."

"But-"

"Sleep."

So Merlin closed his eyes, dragged all of his magic in as tightly as he could, and tried to sleep. He was still awake, though, when Arthur sat beside him again, and Arthur's hand came rest on his jaw. The warmth was comforting, and the image of that blazing king slipped back into his mind as he lingered on the edge of sleep, bright and smiling and proud. He hadn't seen Arthur smile properly for a long time, and he suddenly wondered if he wasn't the only one living from hour to hour.

"Do I have to knock you out?" Arthur muttered. Then, very softly, "We'll be home tomorrow."

"I know," Merlin whispered and turned his cheek into Arthur's hand. It was cold night, but somewhere, still, Camelot was waiting.


End file.
